


🎄🎁 You've Been Elfed 🎅🏼❄️

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Presents, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Christmas, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28140243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: It's Christmastime and a third flatmate is about to move into 221B.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 41





	🎄🎁 You've Been Elfed 🎅🏼❄️

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlwaysJohn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysJohn/gifts), [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts), [DaisyFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/gifts), [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts), [Podfixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Podfixx/gifts), [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts), [simplyclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/gifts).



> John wants their first Christmas as a couple to be special with a new tradition all their own. What may we deduce about Sherlock's reaction?

"Wanting us to have our own Christmas tradition does NOT make me the Sugar Plum Fairy."

"And not wasting my time on frivolous pursuits does not make ME Ebenezer Scrooge, John."

"I don't ask much of you, Sherlock. Just pick one - fruitcake, eggnog."

"Fruitcakes are only good as doorstops and Hudders always does our eggnog."

"Fine, then mistletoe or a theme for the tree."

"We don't need a poisonous plant in order to snog and a theme? Honestly! You know I would choose blood samples or severed body parts which you would immediately reject."

"Must you always be so obstinate? Would it kill you to cooperate for once?"

"Very well, here's me cooperating. You choose the tradition and I'll allow it IF it isn't boring."

With no small dose of sarcasm John replied, "Oh thank you your most gracious Royal Highness. Challenge accepted!"

The next day a new resident was perched on the sitting room mantle.

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Draped in an obscenely expensive 1,000 thread count sheet, Sherlock staggered from the bedroom towards his chair. Stopping abruptly he executed a perfect pirouette and stared. "John, WHAT is that abomination?"

The picture of innocence, John sauntered from the kitchen and hummed, "Hmm?"

"Don't hmm me, explain."

"It's your Elf on the Shelf. He's going to watch over you and report back to Father Christmas every day as to whether you've been naughty or nice. In return you get to name him."

"Ridiculous! Firstly, what fascination does a child's plaything hold for me, and second, WHY would you think I would have the slightest interest in naming IT?"

"Well firstly, you might discover this plaything to be the source of some rewards for you IF you're a good boy, and second, surely the world's only consulting detective can deduce a name for a wee elf."

"Ah I see, you think you're clever do you? Alright. Then my choice is 'He whose name must not be spoken.' Satisfied?"

"Seriously?! Did you just make a Harry Potter reference? Never mind, I'll name him myself."

"You'll do no such thing! I only agreed to your picking a tradition if it wasn't boring. This bedraggled doll is beyond boring." So saying Sherlock picked up the elf by one boot as if it were contagious and pitched it towards the trash basket in the corner.

John caught it midair and tsked, "Lucky for you he doesn't have a name yet. If he did there would be consequences. One does not touch the elf."

"One does not...who IS he, the damn King?"

"No but you'll break the magic and for the hundredth time, we have a QUEEN!"

"Break the what? Are you running a fever? STILL BORING!!"

"Ok, I'll make you a deal. If I promise that tomorrow your elf won't be boring, you promise to play along."

Sherlock sniffed dismissively, "Given the unlikely prospect of your succeeding, I agree."

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When Sherlock left at dawn the next morning to avoid John's undoubtably pathetic effort to "unbore" the Christmas Frankenstein there was no sign of the offensive object in the flat. When he returned however the elf was back with a vengeance.

John was amused to find Sherlock still in his coat glaring at the elf who was now dressed in full pirate regalia from head to toe. He wore a black tricorne hat adorned with a smiley face skull and crossed candy canes. His clothing consisted of a white tee with tattered short sleeves and a lace tie front, a red sash belt, and black and white striped knee length trousers. The outfit was accessorized with a black eye patch, black and silver saber and, on one leg, a long sock that mimicked a peg leg. 

"So...I take it he's no longer boring, and by the way his name is Barnacle William."

Bristling at the mention of his official first name, Sherlock sputtered, "Why would you...?"

"Barnacle Bill the Sailor is an old sea shanty. I thought Bill - William and you ARE a barnacle sometimes, hanging on being a right pain in my arse."

"Says the ALPHA MALE top!"

"Not THAT pain in the arse and don't try to change the subject. I kept up my end of the bargain, now you have to keep yours and remember - no touching the elf."

"So I'm meant to put up with 'William' just sitting there being creepy and spying on me like Mycroft?"

"Not spying, just observing for Santa, and don't forget I said there will be rewards for good behavior."

Pulling his hair in frustration Sherlock moaned, "Elves, magic, good behavior? Good God it will be years before Christmas comes."

John smirked as settled into his chair, "And as for just sitting there - you'll see soon enough. Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Waking early, Sherlock was determined not to appear interested in their new flatmate. He found the elf no longer on the mantle but wrapped around the base of his microscope along side of which was a small box containing slides of various ash samples, blood smears and bacteria. Tamping down his excitement he only barked out, "John, tea!"

Heading for the kettle John grinned. "See, like I said, rewards but..."

"Yes, yes ad nauseam! I know, John, DON'T TOUCH THE ELF!"

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In the days to come the elf lead his assigned charge on a merry chase, a veritable advent calendar of adventures. Logically, Sherlock knew that John was moving the elf but he was actually reluctant to catch him at it. That simply didn't seem sporting plus which even HE couldn't stop the occasional nap and trips to the loo.

It seemed William had made quite a study of Sherlock's interests. He next appeared inside the fridge holding a large rubber toe that was tagged "Good for one body part from the morgue. 😺Assistant Elf Molly😽"

From that point, he was very mercurial in his choice of venues:

Seated in the violin case propped next to the small unmistakable wooden treasure chest that held D'Addario Kaplan Premium Dark Rosin which Sherlock knew cost at least £75.

Laying on the back of the sofa beside an aubergine fleece throw labeled "Strop Blanket".

Standing on the window sill looking out over Baker Street, a pair of compact but powerful night vision goggles within reach.

Reclined like an artist's model atop Sherlock's chair on the seat of which was a wooden plaque engraved "Do Not Disturb. In My Mind Palace".

"Riding" the skull which had two large gold coins over the eye sockets. Upon investigation the coins proved to be rich chocolate.

On the bathroom shelf surrounded by a collection of luxurious bath and hair products.

Leaning over the edge of the kitchen table trying to stab a plate of Hudders mince pies with his saber.

Caught napping in the sock index which revealed a bright red Christmas stocking embroidered 'Sherlock' which was promptly hung on the mantle. That night a camouflage stocking marked 'John' joined it.

Standing guard over Sherlock's mobile which had eight photo attachments of various parts of John's very naked anatomy.

Wrapped around a bag of marshmallows to go with the box of gingernuts flavoured cocoa packets.

To be perfectly fair, John had been rather diligent in placing William in ways that Sherlock could retrieve his rewards without being tempted to, or accidentally, disturbing the elf. This WAS meant to be fun after all, and John hoped they would make it to Christmas without incident. Unfortunately that was not to be.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Less than two weeks before Christmas Sherlock awoke to find John off to work a double shift and the elf astride the open screen of John's laptop. An email on his own mobile instructed him that more photos of John were waiting in a marked file IF Sherlock could deduce the latest password. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem but, whether through anticipation or overconfidence, Sherlock's efforts were met with failure time and again. Finally in exasperation he snatched the elf from his perch and tossed him carelessly on the table and sequestered himself in the bedroom. Hours later he was at last able to open the file which showcased sexy poses of John both in his fatigues and full dress uniform.

When morning came round a still dozing John was greeted by his very petulant lover. "John, sleeping is dull and I require your assistance."

Blinking rapidly to wake himself, John groaned, "What? House aflame, ninjas hiding in the closet?"

"Nothing so intriguing, but I must admit I have been unable to find the elf."

Knowing this was coming, John sighed, "When I came home you were already asleep, my laptop beside you. But the elf was still in the sitting room. By the time I was ready for bed he'd gone but it was obvious you had broken the magic. William won't be back unless you write a note apologizing for your mistake. Until you do he'll be too weak to resume his duties. I DID say."

"I'm not stooping so low that I'll grovel to a stuffed troll!"

Counting on John's soft heart and the spirit of the season to grant him immunity from "punishment", Sherlock spent the entire day brooding in silence on the sofa back turned on the world. John said nothing but noted with delight that Sherlock was snugly wrapped in the Strop Blanket.

When the elf failed to appear for a second day, Sherlock was more disheartened than peevish. "John, am I to truly believe that William's feelings were hurt?"

Feigning shock and surprise John turned to the mantle, "Oh dear me, look at your stocking!"

Pivoting in his chair, Sherlock saw the stocking was bulging with a bundle of switches tied with a black ribbon. "What the hell is this?"

"Looks to me as if Krampus came in the night to scold you for being naughty and, before you ask, if you don't know about Krampus, Google him. Were I you Sherlock I'd get right on that apology, unless you'd rather we put the switches to good use."

Dressing gown flying behind him and curls bouncing, Sherlock raced to the desk, grabbed pen and paper and began to write. A half hour later, "It's finished, John. Now what do I do?"

"Best let me see it first, we don't want you to have to do it again. Then we burn it in the fireplace. The smoke and ashes will carry to the North Pole and hopefully all will be forgiven."

Reluctantly with cheeks blushing pink, Sherlock handed over the note and John began to read to himself. "Dear William, please accept my sincerest apology for breaking the rules and disrupting your magic. I confess my transgression was brought on by a fit of pique caused by my inability to quickly decipher John's new password which, ironically, proved to be 'Don't Touch the Elf'. I hope to see your return to good health as I have found our interactions enjoy...ah, not boring. Sincerely, S.H."

Clearing his throat to avoid giggling, John nodded his assent. "Well done you! Now go make us some tea and I'll put this in an envelope." 

"Tea is required for this ritual?"

"Couldn't hurt, besides I'm thirsty." What John really wanted however was to preserve the frankly adorable letter. Quickly placing it in his wallet, he sealed a blank page in an envelope and lit the fire.

After sending the missive on its fiery way, it had been a lovely rest of the day with more decorating, Chinese takeaway and cuddles in front of the warm fire. That lingering contentment made Sherlock's distress all the more heart wrenching come morning.

"John, John! He didn't come back! What did I do wrong?"

Feeling guilt in every bone, John sent up a prayer that the British Government's timing was impeccable as always. Thankfully before he could respond, a loud persistent horn sounded repeatedly from the street below.

Stomping to the window Sherlock spat, "It's one of Mycroft's cars. What does he want now, the prick?!"

"Only one way to find out love, put on your coat and go look."

Seething, Sherlock threw open the back door of the car to confront not Mycroft but the elf sitting in a basket which was secured by a seatbelt and cushioned by several packages. The handle of the basket had a note attached which read, "You MAY touch the basket."

Back upstairs the rewards were unwrapped. There was a thick packet of cold case files from Greg and a half dozen of Sherlock's favourite croissants from Mycroft's preferred bakery. Smiling in spite of himself Sherlock shyly said, "It appears my apology worked."

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The countdown to Christmas was now less than a week and the rewards continued.

Monday 21st December - Morning coffee lead to the discovery of the elf clutching a large mug the outside bedecked with two large beehives and the inside having a 3-D honeybee in the bottom surrounded by the phrase "Get Your Buzz On".

Tuesday 22nd December - William was tucked in the left pocket of the Belstaff and stuffed in the right was an entire replacement set of both outer and inner buttons for the coat and a spool of thread perfectly matching the buttonholes. John chuckled, "Apparently SOMEONE saw what a disaster it was when you lost one button last month. Good to have extra innit?"

Wednesday 23rd December - Sitting in the bookcase he kept watch over a fancy tin of Jasmine Dragon Phoenix Pearls, the exotic loose leaf tea that Sherlock insisted was superlative above all others. "Bloody well should be", John had said once as it was more than £100 for 400 some odd grams.

Thursday 24th December - Christmas Eve The stockings were hung by the chimney with care and William had climbed to a place of honour seated atop the mirror above. With a cheeky wink, although that might have been their imagination, he pointed down at the two jumbo bottles of Swiss Navy Lube, one in each stocking. Cooling Peppermint in Sherlock's and Chocolate Bliss in John's.

"No danger touching him way up there", John teased wiggling his eyebrows.

"I suspect he knows we'll be putting these to good use tonight."

Friday 25th December - Christmas Day brought a welcome snowfall that really COULD make one believe in magic. Erring on the side of extreme caution, William was now wearing a full blindfold and was nestled comfortably in the branches of their live Christmas tree. Two brilliantly wrapped gifts marked to "Sherlock and John Love, Santa" lay underneath. There was a full sized Pirate Outfit just like William's including a peg leg sock for Sherlock and an early 18th century Royal Navy Captain's uniform for John.

There were a good many more gifts under the tree which languished unopened until well after the moon had crested on the new fallen snow. William Sherlock Scott Holmes and John Hamish Watson were otherwise engaged through the long winters night. 

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Saturday 26th December - Boxing Day. The aroma of fresh baked scones roused them from their afterglow slumber. John yawned and stretched as far as Sherlock's death grip on him would permit. "Mmm, smell that? Hudders must have come back from her sister's on the first train, it's barely half eight."

"No doubt she's been baking since she got in the door to make it up to us for not being here the last two days."

"She needn't. Before she left she made us enough food to last until New Years, and we did agree to celebrate with her today."

"All true, John, but the guilt is strong with that one."

"AND the curiosity. You realize she's going to want all the details about these last few weeks."

"I'll create a distraction by regaling her with tales of my rewards. Speaking of which I find myself curious as to the source of the considerable funds required to procure said rewards."

"You want to discuss that NOW?" John moved closer and began to work Sherlock's already interested cock with languid strokes.

"As you're well aware I hate not know...ohh Jawwwnnn!"

Sherlock lay back with a pool of cum cooling on his stomach and rumbled, "You neglected to answer my question."

"You are a tenacious brat. If you must know, I took a clue from your book and used Mycroft's Coutts Silk Card."

"Of course, leave it to the Queen of the Holmes family to have the Queen's Card. Rather daring of you Captain."

"Not so much. I doubt your brother actually pays his own bills and it's possible that Anthea is secretly one of Santa's helpers and will fail to 'notice' certain charges. But just in case we need to hedge our bets." He grabbed the pirate's sash from the bedside lampshade and used it to clean Sherlock's now sticky belly. "We only need to insure that nothing is returnable."

"I think we can manage that together, John."

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They had just crawled out of bed when the familiar "Woo Hoo" filtered up the stairs. Sherlock clapped his hands in glee. "Excellent, I'm starving! Come along John."

Snorting loudly, John stepped forward to block the path. "Sherlock, love, fetching as you are, you WILL need to put on more than the peg leg sock and the eyepatch."

Hugs, kisses and breakfast delivered, Hudders secured their promise that they would make themselves 'decent' when she came up later with supper.

The digestif for their Full English was a leisurely snogging session followed by enthusiastic shower sex. Afterwards, with much less enthusiasm, they dressed.

"I'm sure you know", Sherlock grunted as his full stomach impeded his efforts to tie his shoes, "that I knew all along it was you moving the elf and not magic."

"Course I do, git, but you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

"I...cannot." The gleam in his eyes gave him away. "Speaking of William, I haven't seen him today. Back to the North Pole?"

"Haven't a clue. I didn't move him and no one's been here except..."

"John, you don't suppose Hudders..."

"Well, she WAS in on what I was doing, even stitched our names on the stockings, but I hope not. The idea that she would take charge of it is terrifying."

"Tell me about it! You weren't the one she chastised for not putting the shopping bags in the recycling."

"Not MY fault YOU decided to sneak the bags from the 'Man Handled Sex Shoppe' to the bins. I wanted to burn them."

"Yes you were definitely right on that score. Then again I doubt we have to worry though. Hudders hardly seems the type for such childish shenanigans."

At that moment their phones began to ping, a photo attachment coming up on both. John just gawped but Sherlock turned ghastly pale and gasped, "Ooohhh Nooooooo!"

William was pictured going through the door of 221A waving goodbye. Two texts followed:

"Thanks for the hospitality. See you next Christmas. Love, William."

The second text was more to the point and as ominous as the Ghost of Christmas to Come:  
"You've Been Elfed! ❤️💚 Hudders ❤️💚

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**Author's Note:**

> * The pirate elf costume can be purchased at Target. There are also couture elf Christmas jumpers but THAT is another story. 
> 
> ** All gifts mentioned here are available online and prices in £, where quoted, are accurate as of this posting. (Rich tastes has our John.)
> 
> *** Coutts Silk Card, often referred to as the Queen's Card, is an exclusive credit card with minimum membership requirements of £500,000 in cash or £5Million in assets.
> 
> **** Barnacle Bill the Sailor is a real sea shanty and often heard in old Popeye the Sailor cartoons. Don't judge me. 😉
> 
> My grateful thanks to the "Magnificent Seven" who have the dubious honour of receiving this as a gift. They are a compilation of wonderful writers, artists and voice actors. Beyond that they have become my friends across the miles who have sustained me through isolation and times of worry and stress. I love you ladies.
> 
> Thanks to all who took the time during this busy season to read and I hope you enjoyed the ELF out of this. Be sure to check out the above mentioned ladies for great stories, art and podfics.
> 
> Happy Holidays to those who celebrate and my hope for a safe and healthy future. I only asked Santa for one thing, kudos and comments. So if you'd like to help Jolly Old Saint Nicholas out, I'd appreciate it. Bless everyone and Joy to the World.  
> ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Pat 🎄🎁🎅🏼❄️


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